


(un)godly

by pastelskrulls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, But I'm Gonna Go Ahead And Say Post That, Crack-ish, Gen, Harry Potter Wields Mjolnir, I Never Read Unworthy Thor, I'm Probably Gonna Continue This, Mighty Thor Logic, Minus Any Of The Canon Plot, Mjolnir - Freeform, Only Harry Though, Pre-Mighty Thor, Professor Trelawney's Predictions, Set during 6th Year, Thor-Harry Potter Fusion, You Don't Need To Know About Comics To Read This, they still go to hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 01:52:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14298159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelskrulls/pseuds/pastelskrulls
Summary: Deep in the Forbidden Forest, there's a weapon of power and magic that only the worthy may wield. After a prophecy from Professor Trelawney, Harry heads out to find it and make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. But maybe he should have just left it alone, because it gives really terrible dye jobs.





	(un)godly

**Author's Note:**

> ive had this idea in my head for a while now so here ya go. all you have to know about thor comics is that thor odinson isnt worthy anymore (idk anything about that but whatever) and for my artistic liberty, that happened in the 80's, so Jane Foster won't be Thor for a while in this canon. also mjolnir gives out free makeovers if youre worthy

It was storming. Thunder boomed, and rain pinned against the common room windows, creating a ghostly rattle that echoed up the stairs, into the dorms. Harry waited, with bated breath, for the next crash of thunder. When it came, he moved deftly down the stairs and through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady was dozing against the Grecian columns, and couldn’t notice the opening and closing of her painting.

Harry made his way through the quiet halls, wondering if Professor Trelawney was telling the truth. This was stupid. He was risking detention because a woman with famously inaccurate predictions had told him something would happen in the forest. He thought briefly of turning back, folding up his cloak, and falling asleep. But he couldn’t forget the glassy look in her eyes. The deep, unearthly voice she had spoken in. Just like that night, three years ago.

He wrapped his cloak around him tighter, aching for the little warmth he could find, and pushed through the tall, oaken doors. The rain splattered against him, soaking through the thin fabric and fogging his glasses. The wind was the worst part of the whole ordeal, racking his body with shivers. His feet sank into shallow mud, leaving an easy trail for anyone who wished to find him.

The forest was closer now, a shadowy border, looming ahead of him. The outline of scraggly trees silhouetted by the waning light of the crescent moon and the occasional lightning bolt. Harry approached the forest and searched for the trail. It was thin, muddy and patchy, cutting off completely some places, and it branched out in every direction.

He followed the path to the center of the forest, where the trees ran high, blocking out any remaining light. He stepped into a clearing, the circle of trees around him still providing protection, upper branches twisting together. The ground was covered with a thick moss, a rich, royal green. Fog rolled along the ground, twisting through the piles of boulders. The rain that fell was somehow lighter here, leaving only a fine mist, carried along by the little wind that could be felt through the trees.

In the center of it all, sat a hammer. It had a leather strap attached to the carved handle, covered in intricate designs. An inscription in the metal sent a faint glow through the small circle. As Harry got closer, the glow became stronger. He pulled his cloak off, quickly shoving it into his satchel. He put his hand over the strap and pulled it up, out of the moss and mud.

When he lifted the hammer, Harry felt a crackle in the air, like electricity, raining around him. Despite it’s heavy appearance, the tool was feather light. A jolt went down his spine, nearly blinding him with the white hot light. It seared, and he was sure it had singed his robes. Except, nothing smelled of smoke. And he didn’t feel like he was on fire. In fact, he felt incredible. Power surged through his veins, like lightning. He looked down at himself.

He was wearing heavy armor and leather boots. He lifted a hand to his head, which was now covered with a helmet that stretched halfway down his face, over his nose, and stopped before his mouth. Hair tickled his shoulders, though he kept his hair at the nape of his neck. He reached up, grasping at it. He looked down at the unfamiliar hair in his hands. It was a light blonde, contrasting with his dark skin. He lifted the hammer, strap still wrapped around his wrist and looked down at it, partly horrified, partly fascinated. He twirled it, the strap spinning lightly around his arm. The hammer started moving upwards, lifting him off the ground. He gasped, he was soaring above the trees in a completely new way. The hammer pulled him at speeds that probably should’ve ripped his arm out of his socket.

All of the grounds were spread out below him, the shimmering lake, the twinkling lights of dorms that still hadn’t gone to sleep. It sprawled beneath him as the hammer carried him further into the storm. The lightning seemed to circle him, encasing him in a mold of energy, drawn more to him, it seemed, than the hammer. Soon, all he could see was light, surrounding him.

From the sky, or maybe from him, he couldn’t be sure, a voice boomed. “Child! You are to take up the mantle of Thor! Only the worthy may wield Mjolnir and protect this realm in Odinson’s absence!”

“Wait, what are you talking about? Who are you?” Harry cried back.

“I am Heimdall, the all-seeing God!”

“I don’t understand! I-” The lightning burst open, cutting him off.

The hammer, Harry thinks the voice called it Mewmew, fell to the ground creating a crater of 20 feet. Harry himself was losing altitude, too. He tucked into a ball and braced for the impact, but when he landed, there wasn’t a sign of injury. He stood shakily, feeling the armor fade away. A voice came from the main entrance. He turned. In the distance, he could make out a woman in night-robes, followed by a tall man.

He pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag, quickly draping it over himself as the voices got closer. Up close, he could see Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. He skirted around them, keeping his steps light and quiet, before taking off running. He dashed up the stairs, barely aware of himself as he whispered the password and scrambled through the common room entrance. He collapsed into one of the cushy armchairs and looked down at his hands. What was that?


End file.
